Saving the Unship
by vigirl
Summary: Sometimes you just have to cut to the chase – G/S


Title:  Saving the Un-Ship

Author: Alison Nixon / VIgirl

Rating: PG-13, some profanity, and naughtiness implied 

Category:   Humor/Parody/Vignette

Spoilers: S3 thus far (not past Lucky Strike).  No spoilers for future episodes.

Summary:  Sometimes you just have to cut to the chase – G/S

Disclaimers: The usual. None of the characters are mine. They belong to Anthony Zuiker, CBS, et al.  

Feedback: Of course!  Please do let me know what you think.

Archival:  www.grissomandsara.com, otherwise please ask first. 

Author's Notes:  Umm, LOL, don't know what to say.  I guess I'm feeling punchy again.  This sort of grew out of some thoughts I've had about S3, and the Geeks' personalities and issues.  It's a weird little fic, and it probably will seem whack after the angst of Falling, but it was fun to write. ;-)  Oh, and Seinfeld fans will catch the underpinning of this story.  Heh.

******

Sara's thick-soled boots smacked the pebbled concrete stairs leading to his front door. She held herself rigidly upright, marching like a soldier in tight formation.  Her mouth, set in hard lines, was so at odds with her usual sparkling smile that anyone who knew her would have realized that she meant business.  In fact, God help the benighted fool who got in her way.  

_That's it.  It's Sara Time. _

Her fist hit the door like a bomb. 

Silence.

Bam!  She hit it again.

Although it seemed impossible, the grimness settled even more deeply into the delicate bones of her face.  

He's probably out with that ho, the damn son of a bitc-- 

Her eyes narrowed.  She could hear the sound of locks being tumbled quickly.     

She put her hands on her hips and thrust one long, black-clad leg forward like an exclamation point to a sentence the man behind the door would wish he couldn't read.  He didn't realize it yet, but today, hell would indeed be paid. 

Today, she _was_ hell. 

Suddenly the tumbling stopped.  Sara felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

He was watching her through the peephole, she thought, like some scared little girl.   

_Coward. _ She knew him well enough to know that his initial instinct—to rush and open the door to such a loud summons--would have quickly given way to cunning and caution.  Like a hardy insect that senses danger from vibrations made by the thunderous footfalls of some large human, his antennae had alerted him.  

On the other side of the door, Grissom's fingers hovered over the chain guard, his last measure of protection from whatever lurked outside.  _Who the hell would be pounding on my door?  And why the hell was I just about to let them in?_

He fitted his eye to the peephole.

_Sara.  _

He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or empty his stomach into the nearest receptacle out of sheer nerves.  Things had been that bad between them. 

Her usually comforting face seemed almost bizarrely warped in the convex lens of the peephole.  It was rather like seeing her in a fun house mirror.  But still…

_God, she looks good._   

He jerked back from the door.  _Stop it, you ass.  Don't even go there.  Looks can kill--remember that.  Just ask the empty husk the female preying mantis leaves behind._

He shuddered, although whether from fear or excitement was difficult to gauge.

"Open the door."

Was that really his plant speaking to him so harshly?  Grissom blinked as he gave his head a short, vicious shake.  Maybe it was his unpredictable ears. 

"Sara.  What are you doing here?"  He checked his watch quickly.  It was seven in the morning.  Didn't she go home after shift?

"I think you know."

He frowned.  Was she drunk?  How would he know anything about her anymore?   _But I bet that idiot EMT 'knew' her, biblically._  As he put his finger to his pulse, he began counting.   

"No, I don't know."  His tone was cold.

The door's oak panels rattled in their frame.  Grissom grabbed at the steel chain that Sara's fist had sent swaying wildly.  

"Open the _fucking--_"

He could never withstand her curses.  The chain was unhooked, and the door opened just enough for Sara to see one of Grissom's rather anxious blue eyes staring at her from behind his glasses.

"There's no need to be coarse, Sara."

She took a step towards him.

"Ah…I mean, there's no need to become…agitated.  The door is open now, see?"  He ventured a small quirk of his lips.  

Her smile emerged, almost miraculously, like the first rays of sunlight after a storm.  Grissom stepped back smugly and swung the door wide open.   _Works every time._   _I don't even have to show her any teeth and she still lights up like the Strip at night.  Bet the EMT can't say that._

You still got it, Spider.  You still got it. 

As he continued his self-congratulation, she crossed over the threshold and into his living room.   By the time Grissom closed the door and turned back to her, the smile was gone and the grimness had returned.   Obviously she wasn't above using diversionary techniques, he noted, stung that he had fallen for her trickery.  _Well, once bitten, twice shy.  I'll never fall for that again. _

He stared her down.  She stared back.

"You've got thirty minutes."

If he looked confused, it would be because he was.   

"What did you say?"

Sara gave him a hard look, shedding her jean jacket in one fluid motion and tossing it to the floor.  He tried not to let his eyes linger on the curves her movement had exposed.  She was wearing a simple red tank top, but he felt himself weaken all the same.

"Since you just blew thirty seconds pretending to be clueless, and another thirty seconds staring at my breasts," she said tartly, "you now have twenty-nine minutes."

Kicking himself for letting her catch him in mid-ogle, he attempted his customary bluster.

"Listen Sara, I have no idea what your problem is, but it's highly inappropriate for you to be in your supervisor's home off-duty.  I'm prepared to ignore this visit, however, if you'll just leave before--"

He nearly choked on the rest of his words when she closed the short distance between them without warning.

"If you don't take off all your clothes right now and take me to bed, I'll make sure you're sorry."

This time, the choking was real.

Sputtering, spewing, gasping, Grissom tried to speak.  How was it that the same three options taunted him?  Laugh, cry, or upchuck into the nearest receptacle.  This had to be some cruel joke.  He would have given anything if it was not, but logic dictated otherwise. 

"I'm…I'm surprised at you, Sara," he managed to say with what little dignity he could muster.  "I didn't think you'd stoop to…crude practical jokes."

Her eyes glittered, but he cut her off before she could speak.

"Well, you've had your little fun now.  Why don't you just leave?"

"Fun? You think this is _fun_ for me?"  

They exchanged a mutual glare before Sara jabbed a bony index finger into his personal space.  

"I'm here for one reason, and one reason only."  

She fired the words like bullets.  

"To save the un-ship."

His face screwed itself up into something approximating a laugh.  "The _what?_" 

"Don't you ever watch _Seinfeld_?"

"Huh?"

"Forget it," she muttered.  "Look, this is the only way, Grissom.  We have a problem.  You've screwed around.  I've screwed around.  The only thing we can do now to fix it is to screw each other."  

When he merely gaped at her, she jabbed the finger again.  "Are you hearing me, old man?  It's the only way we'll get over this in time for you not to be an eighty-year old by the time our kids graduate from college." 

Grissom's sputtering and spewing was now reaching epic proportions.  He wanted desperately to reach out and wipe the droplets that sprinkled onto Sara's face, but his heart just couldn't quite believe that this was real.

"Screw…each other…our kids…Jesus Lord…"

 "Son of a bitc--"  

This time, she stopped her tirade herself by putting her lips on his in a way that would set any red-blooded male's hair ablaze.  Grissom could attest to that—he was sure he smelled smoke.

When she finally pulled away, he was amazed by his composure.   He nodded several times as he scanned his lips with his fingers, retracing the path Sara's kiss had taken.  Like any good scientist, he deployed his faculties in pursuit of the truth, and rationally assessed the parameters of the situation.  After a minute or two of this cogitation, he was satisfied.

"The most logical, rational and elegant solution.  Sex…to _save_ the un-ship."

Sara was already lifting his shirt out of his pants.

"I think that is…ah…"  He caught his breath as her hand curved itself against the roundness of his bare belly.  "The most admirable course to take…_Sara!_"  His voice rose to a shocked shout as her hand slid lower.  

As a man who fervently believed that scientific discovery demanded the best possible experimental conditions, Grissom knew he had to act.  In a moment, he had her up in his arms.  Before she could protest his interruption of her explorations, he whisked her straight to bed.  Maybe someone her age could handle the hardwood floors, but his middle-aged backside needed something a little softer than that.   

*****

His pulse slowly began to fall as he fell back against the pillows with a grateful sigh.  So this is what it would be like with her.  He smiled foolishly, as happy as he ever been in his life.  _I just might never get out of bed again.  _

He turned onto his side, laying one hand on her stomach as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her throat.  She was still breathing rapidly and the rushes of air from her lungs to her lips felt like a whirring just underneath the surface of her skin. 

He lifted his head to look in her eyes, wanting to tell her he loved her.

Her frown was fierce.

"Sara?"  

She didn't even glance his way as her eyes sought out the farthest corner of the ceiling.  She seemed to be muttering something, but in such a low and fragmentary way that strain as he might, he could not make it out.  

He stared at her, dumbfounded.  He wasn't the most experienced man on earth, but even he knew that this was not the desired result of lovemaking.  _What did I do wrong?   I thought she…I mean, she seemed to… God, I rushed it, didn't I? It was really supposed to take all twenty-nine minutes, wasn't it?_

"I'm sorry, Sara, I'm sorry…it went too fast, right?  I know you must be disappointed, but I…I just couldn't help myself, honey."   He could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead, but not the good kind.  "You, you know, you just felt so good, and I've been dreaming about this for so long, I just…got ahead of myself…."  

He searched her face for some sign of that she understood.  "I'm sorry, I really am.  Is it okay?  We're okay, right?"  

She said nothing, only mumbling something about minutes versus hours, her frown more pronounced than ever.  Grissom felt his eyes begin to sting with tears.

"I'll be better next time, Sara, I swear!  Just give me one more chance.  I, uh, I have all these Zen meditation tricks I can use, and I, I…" He kissed her face desperately, her cheeks, her forehead, her mouth.  "I even have a book, _The Zen of Sex_.   Not, ah, not that I've ever actually used it before, of course…I, uh, just needed it for research, you know.  I was totally saving it for you, because I knew this day would come eventually…I wanted to be ready for you, honey.  You understand, don't you?"   

Although it shamed him to let them fall, a few tears escaped and traveled their sad, sorrowful way down his face.  He watched as they landed on Sara's cheek, plopping gently, one after another.  

Crushed, Grissom bowed his head.  He couldn't look at her.  After all the anticipation, after the hope that they could erase the past by taking a chance and making a leap, he had blown it again.  The sheets pulled against his skin as he began to move away from her. 

"So…if we keep going at this pace, I think we can get in…."  

Sara did a quick double check of her calculations, marveling at just how much the afterglow with the man she loved had slowed down her faculties.  She'd rechecked the figures four times already and only now had she assured herself of the answer.  

"We can get in at least four or five more times before we have to go to work.  I mean, when you factor in recuperation time, a little sleep, some breakfast, then lunch, our shower…oh, and I'll need to run home to get fresh clothes…"  

She sighed worriedly at the prospect of lost time, but soon broke out in a grin.  "Oh, I forgot.  I always keep a change of clothes in my car for emergencies.  You know how decomps can really put the stink on you.  So really, we can definitely manage five, I think…"

She finally lowered her eyes to his.

"Unless you don't want to."  She spoke softly, almost as if she feared there was a chance he didn't.  "Unless you don't think we can work it out…"

She laughed against his mouth as he kissed her and took the warm pressure of his body as a yes. 

Saving the un-ship may just have been the best move she ever made.

_(Fin)_

  


End file.
